


What You Doing in my Bed?

by Gingersnap



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationships, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:19:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gingersnap/pseuds/Gingersnap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya barges through the door right after breaking into the safe with Solo. Gaby had just gotten off the phone with her uncle about meeting for lunch the following day.<br/>This is my version of what happens after Illya listens in on the radio to Napoleon and Victoria. Written in Gaby’s perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Doing in my Bed?

Something about the tone of my uncle’s voice on the phone was unsettling. Methodical. No doubt, he’s using me as a tool, just as I am with him. If only it wasn’t at the expense of my partners.  
Solo I know can handle his own. They both can. But Illya will take it personally. Something tugs deep in my gut at the thought of betraying him.  
I didn’t expect to care for a Russian, ever really in my lifetime. Let alone this KGB human machine. But there’s something endearing about him, a softness. I’ve come to really enjoy his company.  
I like flustering him, and I like calming him. I realize it would not be as much of a victory to make him crack the slightest smile had he not been this stern Russian man. Always in a mood. Always on a mission. Always taking everything so seriously.  
Still, I feel sick to have to feign betrayal against him tomorrow. I wish there was another way. Will I see him again? Waverly has not disclosed many details about my future. Only that tomorrow I am to infiltrate the remainder of the mission on my own.

… Being deep in thought, I hardly notice Illya unlocking the door. It wasn’t until he barged through, nearly breaking down the door did I snap out of my reverie. I quickly transition into a relaxed attitude.

First thing I notice is, he’s wet. I want to laugh.  
“What’s going on?” I ask, cooly.

“Where’s my case!” Illya demanded. 

Judging by his tone, something didn’t go according to plan tonight and he’s not in the mood to banter.  
I must admit, it’s entertaining to watch him scramble.  
He finally found whatever spy contraption he was searching for because he turned on a radio of some sort, successfully tuning into Napoleon’s room. I’m still clueless as to what’s going on and try my very hardest not to laugh when I hear a woman moaning in pleasure from the radio. Napoleon would seduce the enemy..

Shrugging my shoulders, I laugh to myself and make a snarky comment teasing Illya a safe amount. I saunter to the bathroom and my knees nearly give out when he shoots me his “spy eye” as I like to call it. It’s almost a glare but softer, concentrated and sexy as hell. He doesn’t scare me, and he knows it. I smirk at him and he breaks eye contact first. Maybe I scare him..  
I look in the mirror. Why does Illya affect me like this? He won’t dance with me. He doesn’t talk much. Won’t drink with me. Yet, I crave his presence.

Wondering if I have the same affect on him, I look down at myself. While I’m grateful for the comfortable pajamas Illya picked out for me, he plays it overly safe and they’re too modest. I wonder if I had taken Napoleons suggestion for sleepwear, I could tease Illya with something more revealing. Would it have made a difference? I’m tired of waiting for him to make a move. I’m quite bored and we are stuck in this hotel room together. Although Illya is ever the gentleman, I catch him frequently watching me when he thinks I don’t notice. I don’t mind. It excites me that he is visibly uncomfortable in my presence. I think it’s sweet, and I know I’m not the only one feeling something..

Pretending to wash my face, I turn on the sink and sit on the ledge of the tub. I need to think more about my plan for the following day in privacy. How exactly will I get through tomorrow? Uncle Rudy is not to be trusted. Anything could happen. How will I explain myself to my Russian friend? Will I even get the chance?

::thud::

Peeking out of the bathroom to check what the noise was, I see Illya has collapsed and is completely unconscious on the floor. I run to help him and find that he's shivering, and his right shoulder is covered in blood.  
“Shit. Illya, wake up!” I slap him. Nothing.  
Checking his shoulder, it’s obvious a bullet went straight through him. Only a flesh wound it seems but his whole upper right side is drenched, obviously losing quite a bit of blood. Whatever happened tonight has clearly caught up with him.

I clean and dress his shoulder as best I can. Dousing his wound with alcohol to ensure it’s sterile, he flinches but still doesn’t wake. I need to take off his wet clothes-he must be freezing. I get the rest of his shirt off without too much effort, all while trying not to notice his sculpted body and focus on the task at hand.  
His pants are another story. Being the giant he is on top of being wet, I’m not making much progress getting them off. Tugging with every ounce of weight I can manage, it snapped him out of sleep just barely. He grumbles something in Russian and rolls over, trying to get up. I put his arm around my shoulder and help him stumble over to his bed. 

“Illya, stand still.” I order, "Your pants are soaked. I’m just going to get them off so you can lay back down.”

Dazed and confused, he mumbles something in protest but eventually lets his hands rest on my shoulders for balance. I get his pants halfway down before he crashes on the bed, passing out again and pulling me down with him. I lay on top of him for a beat longer than necessary but eventually wriggle out of his arms and pull his pants off the rest of the way.  
He must be worse off than I thought. Now I’m really worried. I’ve yet to see him have a weak moment like this, and it makes me uneasy. I half wonder if I should run and grab Solo, but that would blow our cover. He’s obviously busy with Victoria. I suppose I’ll do what I can tonight on my own.  
Reluctantly, I leave his underwear on but remove his socks. I start gathering the mess off the floor and go clean myself up..

Washing Illya’s blood off my hands, I am really concerned for him. I don’t like how he was shivering. He probably needs to take some medication for his temperature but there’s no way I’m going to be able to wake him now. Looks like I’ll be keeping a close eye on him all night.  
I return to Illya to finish getting him situated for the night. Getting his legs up on the bed is like lifting a car, but I manage to do it and cover him up. So strange to see him vulnerable like this. It makes me want to curl up next to him, among other things. Why is my mind wandering right now? He’s sick, Gaby, pull it together.  
How quickly the tables have turned. From our first encounter where I wanted Solo to shoot him down to this, where the thought of him dying is something I don’t think I could get through..ever.  
Turning off the lights, I climb into my bed, three feet away from his. Feels like miles. I try to fall asleep while watching him breath. 

.............................................

I can’t sleep. With Illya hacking a lung every fifteen minutes or so, and being restless myself, I consider climbing in bed with him. I feel it’s the only thing that may relax me. He’s unconscious anyway and if I’m being honest with myself, it’s torture to be next to him with no skin contact. I’ll be able to slip out before he wakes up in the morning.

He’s laying on his side, making it easy for me to slide in between his arms. Even in his sleep, his arms instinctively envelop me. He mumbles sleepily in Russian and pulls me tighter to him. I check to see if he's still asleep and he’s all but snoring. He smells of salt water and gasoline and I breathe it in, still wondering what this man was up to tonight. My face so close to his neck, his breath tickles my eyelashes. I’m drowsy within seconds.

It’s still dark out when I wake with the absence of his arms around me. I don’t remember turning away from him in my sleep. I cock my head slightly to check on him and he is sitting up against the headboard with his arms folded, looking amused.  
Shit.  
Trying to hide a smile, he calls me out. 

“What you doing in my bed, chop shop girl?”

Horrified, I throw the covers off and awkwardly start explaining myself..  
“uhm, I’m sorry..you were sick..er..I must have fallen asleep checking on you..” 

He blinks at me and continues to give me that cheeky, amused face he makes when he finds me silly.. 

“Well, you were basically dying!” I continue, "I was exhausted checking to see if you were alive after every choking hack you made..” “ I mean, you were shivering and I thought.. maybe I could help.. you know, with body heat..” I decide to shut up.

I’ve never felt so stupid. He just sat there, relaxed, staring at me with his arms crossed, patiently waiting for me to stop rambling. I looked down at my hands, feeling defeated and began to move off the bed.

“Where you going? I ask why you are in my bed, not ask you to leave..”

I feel him shift closer to me on the edge of the bed. He grabs my arm to stop me from leaving.  
Trying to sound contrite after teasing me, “Gaby.. Come here.” He hesitates for a second but then slides his other hand around my waist. I freeze. His hands are so big his fingers slip through the gaps between the buttons of my shirt, making contact with my skin, causing my breath to hitch. 

He links his arms around me. One draping across my chest to meet the arm around my waist. When he has me in a full embrace, he takes in a slow, deep breath right behind my ear. My body tingles.

“I want you to stay. Come, малютка*” he whispers, while his lips brush my earlobe. 

I turn to face him and it doesn’t take me long to move. In a second with his help, I’m straddling his lap. His hands slowly finding their way from my waist up my shirt, never breaking eye contact, gauging my reaction. I’m sure he can feel the goosebumps all over my back where his hands have been. 

I take his face in my hands, his eyes concentrated, searching mine.  
“If you insist.” I agree.  
“I do.” He says with a low voice, almost smirking. He knows full well why I was in his bed.  
Our lips finally come together. We take our time, enjoying this much anticipated encounter . His hands are strong on my back while I run my fingers through his hair as he kisses me slow and gradual. I relish in the way his lips feel on mine. I feel more in these first few seconds with him than I have ever felt for any man. 

Still straddling him, I push him to lay back on the bed. My hands now on his torso trace their way up to steady on his chest. Feeling every divot of each chiseled muscle on my way up. I dig my fingernails into him just slightly and he lets out a low, quiet groan.  
He studies me for a pause. Like he’s memorizing my face. Catching a stray hair from my cheek, he tucks it behind my ear, brushing my cheek as he does. I shiver. Every touch leaves my skin hot. Slowly he extends his hand to the nape of my neck, coaxing me down to his mouth.  
He deepens the kiss and moves his hands down to hold me in place, low on my waist. My body involuntarily starts to move against his and he stiffens, his hold on me tightens like he’s fighting to pace himself.. and it’s torture..  
His hands slide down to grip my thighs and with one swift move, he hitches my leg and flips me so I’m pinned beneath him. More sure of himself, Illya knows he doesn’t have to be so careful with me.  
He lets his body sink onto mine while he slowly traces my jaw with his nose, from my chin to under my ear, inhaling sharply.  
He kisses me with more force, his tongue ardently exploring mine while removing my hands from his forearms, pinning them both above my head with his hand, the other sliding down to ignite my skin with the pads of his fingertips.

I let out a hedonistic sigh. Kissing my neck, Illya moves down, slightly brushing his lips against my collar bone, and trailing down between my breasts. His free hand traveling down, exploring where to go next.. untying my drawstring..  
I can’t take it. I free my hands from his grasp so I can help tear my pants off and hold him to me. Every inch of his body molding hard to mine. I need him. I can feel he needs me, too. I run my fingernails down his back and he groans deep. It sets him off. He sits up just slightly off of me..  
“You forgot item of clothing” he plays, insinuating the underwear I left on him. He lets me finish undressing him and I toss them on the floor. He catches me eyeing him, impressed but not surprised by his size. He gives me an eyebrow and a hint of a grin and leans back down over me, forcing my legs wider one at a time using his knees. He claims my lips fervently once more, while I feel him completely consume me.  
Finally. 

....................................................

 

I wake to what I assume is Napoleon knocking on the door. Illya is of course already dressed and I’m left naked in his bed. He gives me a glance before he steps out of the hotel room to converse with Solo in the hallway.  
I look over at the table and Illya has at some point this morning picked up breakfast for me. Always thinking ahead.  
I quickly throw on a robe and try to eat something, although I’m anxious and have no appetite.  
I eat as much as I can manage and make my way to the bathroom to shower.  
Brushing my teeth in my towel, I lean down to rinse out my mouth and when I stand back up, Illya is behind me.  
He is leaning against the wall, hands in his coat pockets, looking intently at me through the mirror. He looks so handsome when he’s all serious in his cap. I turn to face him.

“I enjoyed last night.” He says casually. I look away, trying not to blush. He continues, "Thank you for tending to me. I didn’t realize shape I was in.”

“What exactly happened to you guys, Illya?” I asked. “How is your shoulder?" 

“After I wake up to you, all over me..” He pauses to smirk at me... “..I noticed bandage. I check it and stitched myself while you slept."

“Of course you did. I don’t know why I was so worried about you. I could’ve saved myself a lot of trouble and slept in my own bed” I winked. He looked down at the floor and I saw a hint of a smile. Bashful.  
I stride over to close the distance between us, and wrap my arms around him, putting my head on his chest. His arms willingly leave his pockets to embrace me. He breaths me in from the top of my head and I have to close my eyes to hold back the flow of tears I feel coming.  
"I’m going to finish getting ready and I’ll meet you in Napoleon’s room?” I needed time alone to go over the plan in my head while I get ready.

Saying nothing, he nods in agreement and bends down to kiss me gently on the forehead before leaving. My heart breaks. He’s so strong, but he’s tender hearted. I know he cares deeply for me and I don’t want to risk losing him.  
I can not think of a smoother way to get around the situation with my uncle. Surely the conspicuously bugged ring he planted on me will give him enough of a head start and he’ll hopefully see through the plan. He has to know I would never choose to do this to him? He must feel how much he means to me, especially after last night..

 

..I look chic in the tangerine dress Illya picked out for me as I make my way to Napoleon’s room. I give myself a quick pep talk and open the door.  
I walk in to a weird vibe between the two of them, both boys wait for me to speak first and Illya has this awkward look on his face. These two are always arguing, so who knows.

Napoleon asks me about my tracker and makes some suggestive look at Illya while insisting he check it.. I wonder if something he said or did gave away what happened with us last night, because Illya won't stop fidgeting.  
Napoleon excuses himself to the balcony and Illya and I have a quick moment. I stand on the table while he warms his hands before gliding them up my leg…Always so thoughtful, even though they’re still cold.  
His hand trails north past my tracker, surely not by accident. He’s too agile to miss anything. I feel his fingers lightly brush me between my thighs, against my panties..

With Solo less than 15 feet away, I’m caught off guard.  
“What are you doing down there?” I murmur.

“Trying not to get lost” Illya teases, looking up at me with a smile playing on his lips. He finds his way back down to my tracker and flips the switch.  
…Maybe I ‘forgot to turn it on’ on purpose.

His hands slide back down my thigh.  
“You’re trembling.” Illya’s demeanor quickly changed from playful to concerned.

“That’s because I’m scared..” I confess.

He looks sympathetic, “It’s going to be OK..”

“How do you know!?” I sound defensive but I can’t hide the anxiety in my voice.

Still holding tight to my leg, he tries to reassure me.  
“I’ll be..” His voice catching.. "I’ll be close by.” I can tell he does not want me to go alone. He wants to protect me. But he has no idea what’s about to come.  
I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about hurting him. I want to tell him. 

I feel heady from his hands stroking my thigh. I lean down, hoping I can explain how much he means to me through one last kiss before I go..

“All turned on now?” Fucking Napoleon and his timing. Surely he thought he was being funny, but now the moment is gone and I have to face hell.

“Uncle Rudy’s car has arrived.”

::end scene:: ;)

**Author's Note:**

> *малютка=little one
> 
> If this did it for ya, don’t forget to leave kudos and/or comments!


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